In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(102)

He sucked in a sharp, rasping breath and flung his head back. This was going to kill him. So raw, so good. Pure electricity. Too much, that hot, suckling vortex, the tender, luscious swirl of her tongue around his aching cockhead. The long, wet pull . . . oh, God.

He opened his eyes and caught sight of them both reflected in the mirror across the room. Himself, chest bared, face contorted in a primal grimace. Sveti on her knees in front of him, hair loose. Still in her virginal, girlish white dress. Like some kinky schoolgirl sex fantasy.

He cradled her head gently, careful not to touch the hurt part. “Stop,” he said, but it was a shaking, pleading tone. No authority.

Sveti looked up, squeezing his stiff rod. “Don’t you like it?”

“I love it. But we can’t. Not after this morning. It’s too weird.”

“So let me fix it.” She lashed him voluptuously with her tongue.

He keened with agonized pleasure. “Wait.” His brain was too fried by sex hormones to get the thought out in one piece. “I don’t want to be managed and soothed. I don’t want you to fix us with sex. I don’t want to be trained with it like a circus animal. I don’t want that dynamic.” He grabbed her under her arms and tugged until she stood up.

Sveti sighed. “Sam. Relax. You’re overthinking this.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes,” she said. “Sometimes a blow job is just a blow job.”

“This isn’t just a strategy to blow me into a sweeter mood?”

She smiled. “My strategy is to blow you into a screaming orgasm.”

His laughter made his chest shake, as if he were sobbing. “You just love throwing my words back in my face, don’t you?”

“When the words are perfect for the occasion, yes. Do you feel that I’m manipulating you right now, Sam?”

He held up his thumb and forefinger, touching. “Little bit.”

“I’m not.” She rucked the skirt of her dress up above her hips. He could see the puff of her pubic hair. She lifted up one foot and perched it on the bed. “Feel me. You told me yourself. My body can’t lie.”

He just stared at her, breathing hard. His ears roared.

She seized his hand and guided it between her legs. “Feel me. When I come all over you, then tell me how manipulated you feel.”

His fingers fluttered across the damp seam of her *. He slid them between her folds, finding her hot, slick. Exquisitely yielding.

He yanked her into his arms and kissed her, fingers delving more boldly, thumb circling her clit. The kiss grew ravenous, furious.

“You melt me,” she gasped against his mouth. “I want that, Sam.”

“You got it,” he said breathlessly. “Wait, just a second.”

He clawed the coverlet down, leaving just the altar of naked white linen like untouched snow. He shoved his jeans off.

Sveti twisted, straining for her zipper. “Shall I take off the dress?”

“I can’t wait,” he said roughly, shoving her skirt up. He pushed her thighs apart and stared at her beautiful pale thighs, the nest of dark, damp curls. That gleaming, perfect pink *. All his.

She pulled him to herself. “I need you inside me.”

He kissed her again. “It’s going to be intense, once we get going, the way I am today,” he said. “You need to be sopping wet.”

“I am wet. You felt me.” She sounded anxious. He could feel in her clutching, trembling fingers how she needed to grasp something, affirm it before it could slip away from her.

“Not yet.” His voice was savage. “I will decide when you’re ready. You are going to relax, and trust me to take care of you. Have you got that straight? Because I will just repeat myself until you do!”

She jerked in a sobbing breath, clutching his shoulders. Her fingers dug into the cotton fabric, trying to trap him there.

He slid his fingers into her hair, avoiding the sore spot. Protecting it. “You with me?” he asked. “Are we good? Do you trust me?”

She bit her lip. “I’m with you,” she whispered. “I trust you.”

That took him apart, unexpectedly. He had to sink down and hide his face against her breasts. His shoulders shook. What suck-ass timing. Right now, when he was trying to be all masterful and studly, to show her she was in such good hands. Right now he had to fall apart?

Sveti’s arms tightened around him. Then her legs, a whole-body hug. He felt her soft lips, pressing his forehead. Sweet benedictions. She’d ended up comforting him. How f*cking backward was that?

When he finally dared to lift his face, her eyes shimmered with tears. Her mascara was long gone, just a shadowy smudge accenting her eyes. No major landslides this time. He brushed her tears away. Sucked them greedily off his fingers. Hot, wet, salt. His.

“Sorry,” he muttered gruffly. “Lost it.”

She smiled, luminous. “Anytime. I like to be trusted, too.” She lay back, squinting at the sunlight flooding in the window. “It’s so bright.”

“Does it hurt your head?”

“No,” she said. “It just makes me feel so naked.”

“Good. That’s exactly how I want you.” He stroked tenderly down her body, inside her thighs. Spreading her gently open.

Sam made a low, choked sound. “Look at that sweet, beautiful thing. All pink, in the sunshine,” he murmured. He spread her labia, exposing her most intimate parts. “I want to suck on your clit.”